


Fallen

by iwant2eatu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Character Death, I'm Sorry, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 20:32:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwant2eatu/pseuds/iwant2eatu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is human, and not coping well. Dean tries his best, but they're both past the point of help.</p>
<p>One shot angst. I apologise in advance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallen

Cas was never very good at being human. In all honesty he wasn't very good at being an angel either, but he was much worse at the human thing. Sleeping he understood, but food was always an issue, especially with Dean. For the first few months he was being forcibly reminded to eat, and it took him a long time to fully grasp the concept of non-supernatural hunger.   
Biological functions frustrated him too. He just couldn't understand why they happened so often, and how generally boring and unpleasant they were. After a while though, he got used to it. To peeing in the morning, and eating three times a day, and sleeping for five, maybe six hours, every night. Things moved slower because of the distractions, but he was getting used to it. He had help, he had support, and he had Dean.   
When he was an angel, he had always been aware of the bond between them, and slowly realised that even the other angels found the whole thing decidedly weird. At the time though, there were more pressing matters to attend to, and there was never ever any time to thing about anything but the tasks at hand. 

Since losing his grace, however, they had had what seemed like endless stretches of time together, and there were things that couldn't be avoided. He knew that Dean was worried about him, and attributed his almost constant company to that fact. Truth be told, he was glad of the companionship; sometimes he forgot that he was powerless and tried to move something, teleport himself, or occasionally try and heal one of the brothers when they got back from a hunt. When he remembered, the crashing wave of impotence hit him and he would regularly become deeply depressed.   
It was during these times of depression that he needed Dean the most, and, mostly, he got what he needed. Dean would make sure he was okay, bring him food, clear away the uneaten food without a word, bring him more food. When it got really bad, Dean would even physically lift him, put him in the front seat of the Impala and drive until Cas said something. They both knew that the first time he spoke was the beginning of the end of that spell. That, and the slow return of his appetite. 

The first time he tried to kill himself was almost by accident. Sam and Dean were on a hunt and he was hungry, so he decided to go to the diner across the road and get something to eat. On the way back, full but still emptier than he had ever felt, he suddenly changed direction and decided to go for a walk. Nearly a week later Dean found him, staggering through the woods, delirious and dehydrated. Both furious and destroyed, Dean visited the hospital every day for two weeks until he was released, and then didn't let him go anywhere alone for three months. This event made them both realise how broken they were, how the life really had got to them, and they both thought that two broken things could make one whole. 

Dean kissed Cas first, drunkenly and tearfully, the day after he got out of the hospital, after pleading with him to never be so goddamn stupid again. The helplessness Cas felt watching the man he idolised and loved so much be so upset threatened to tip him back over into the abyss, but the moment Dean leaned forward, the sun came out. Messy, confusing and perfect, the kiss scared them both, but it wasn't long before they were in bed, crying out each other's names and trying so hard to make the moment last forever, the moment of unity, of wholeness.   
The next morning he woke up to an empty bed and felt the entire world cascading around him, and it was a long time before the tuneless humming from the shower rebuilt the universe. Rolling over into Dean's smell, he realised for the first time how wonderful it was to be human, to feel things that angels could never feel, even for God. For the first time in months, Cas smiled. 

Their relationship was never stable, but for a time it worked. Dean took some time off, and Cas focused all of his energies on fixing him. They went to the cinema, they drove for days, staying in hotels rather than motels, eating real meals and having sex anywhere they could, desperate for the connection to something they knew was real and living and loving and there. After a while though, it began to fall apart and even though they denied it, they both knew something was wrong. Dean was drinking more, trying to bury the feelings he was wrestling with, and Cas was slipping, panicking every time he was alone, getting trapped in thoughts he had no idea how to deal with. He started to deny the fact he was human again; stealing Dean's switchblades when he wasn't looking and slicing into his legs to prove that he could heal himself. When Dean found the wounds he said nothing, but left for a few hours, coming back drunker than Cas had ever seen him. That night, after silent, tearful, awful sex, Cas disappeared inside himself and Dean barely noticed. 

The second suicide attempt was not an accident. Weeks of fugue had passed, and he had said almost nothing, helplessly pushing Dean further and further away. In the end Sam found him, curled over on his side, blood cooling and puddled in the sheets. A bleary week passed in hospital, and he couldn't remember once seeing Dean. This abandonment in a time of need shocked him, but made him realise that they had long since ceased to even attempt to fix each other, and were just shattering the broken shards into infinitely small pieces, making it harder and harder to fix themselves. 

Eventually Dean visited, unshaven, thin, and wrecked. He was covered in bruises and cuts that made Cas' heart break, and he knew that Dean had spent two weeks doing nothing but fighting in bars. The tense visit ended with a kiss like their first; beautiful, loving and painful, needing no words to express the pain they both felt. 

Coming back to the Winchesters', Cas felt like a stranger. The room he had opened himself up in was closed to him now, leaving only the room where he had sliced open his arms. He tried his best, and Sam had done a good job; repainting and moving the furniture made it feel utterly different but he still knew, still felt the thoughts that spun around the ceiling, threatening to completely black out the room, leaving him stranded in the darkness.   
It wasn't long before he was back in Dean's bed, all pretence of tenderness evaporated; the stitches in his wrists opening with pleasure and dripping sad blood onto Dean's back. They no longer cried out each other's names, and they rarely touched otherwise. Gone were the soft kisses, the sleepy embraces. In their place was a cruel need, tearing at them both until they were spent, leaving them to sleep in different rooms. Both of them were numb, cold and lonelier than they had ever been. 

The end came slowly, but when it did they were both taken by surprise. A long time had passed since Dean had hunted, and he suddenly disappeared, leaving Cas stranded. He knew he had no right to be upset, but there were things that needed to be said, things that had never been said, and he couldn't face the idea of knowing Dean never knew. While he had no idea where Dean was, Sam had a hunch; low level demonic activity two towns over. Two days later Cas was there, watching Dean drink himself half to death and stumble out of a bar. They walked together, separate as always, Dean unaware of the quiet presence behind him. Watching Dean suddenly whirling into an alley, Cas felt that something was wrong and ran, catching up to him before he was aware of what was happening. As he grabbed Dean he felt something run hot and cold down his spine and was surprised to find himself on the floor, no longer holding on to the leather jacket he had so often buried himself in. He could hear Dean shouting wildly, gunshots and then silence. Confusion welled up inside him, and he felt like crying. In a blinding flash the pain arrived, filling up every empty space inside him; doing what knives never could, what sex never could, what Dean never could.   
He was cold, vision fading when suddenly it filled with the face that he could never forgive, never forgive himself for hardening, never fix. Tears fell, mingling with his own, and words he could never hear buzzed against his unlistening ears. The last thing Cas thought, the last thing he said slipped out in a whisper and then nothing. Cas was better at being human than he thought.

“I'm sorry Dean. I love you.”


End file.
